


halfway between fantasy, and reality.

by theartificialvixen



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Destiny's Child references, M/M, My version of canon, Smut, Spice Girls Epiphany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 01:24:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theartificialvixen/pseuds/theartificialvixen
Summary: Sometimes, the line between fantasy and reality isn't as clear cut as it was originally. Based on a prompt of: "Trixya messing with the fans and falling in love."





	halfway between fantasy, and reality.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably one of my favourite fics I've ever written, I don't think I'll top it characterisation wise. Let me know what you think 

_“You know what would be fun?” Katya asked, sitting up on the bed, crossing his legs under him._

_“A two for one deal on hair plugs?” Trixie replied, not glancing up from his phone. Katya rolled his eyes, grabbing Trixie’s phone from his hands and replacing it with his own._

_“Look,” Katya said, tapping on the phone screen. Trixie sighed, scrolling down the phone with his finger._

_“Okay? A bunch of bored teenagers think we’re fucking,” Trixie stated, shrugging._

_“They believe, incorrectly, that we are in a relationship. Otherwise known as shipping, which I believe was a term that originated due to the X Files in –“_

_“Yeah, settle down Rain Man. What does it mean and why do I not care?” Trixie asked, handing the phone back to Katya._

_“We should exploit this, mislead them, like the media often does when it comes to people of colour being shot by the police,” Katya replied chirpily._

_“Why?” Trixie asked, confused._

_“Why do we do anything, Tracy? Communism. Satanism. Graphic homoeroticism. Or, fun,” Katya said, smiling widely._

And that’s how Trixie finds himself in the basement of World of Wonder, Katya’s red lipstick smeared into his own. They’d discussed kissing just the once, the proverbial bait on a proverbial hook. So it comes as a surprise when they kiss again, and again, and again. Kissing Katya doesn’t feel as strange as Trixie had expected, perhaps it’s because he knows it’s for show; there’s nothing intimate about having a camera and 4 people in the room while you make out with your best friend. There’s something that can only be described as a pang of disappointment when Katya pulls away, but Trixie ignores it because, hello, what a cliché that would be. After de-dragging, they go to Chipotle, and Trixie gets extra guac because he’s serving rich bitch realness.

“What should we do next?” Katya asks between mouthfuls of burrito, guacamole in the corner of his mouth.

“You could start by wiping the salsa that’s residing on the corner of your mouth,” Trixie replies, taking a sip from his Diet Coke. Katya wipes with his thumb, missing most of it. Trixie rolls his eyes good naturedly and wipes it off with his finger before popping it into his mouth. “This shit is more expensive than Columbian cocaine, I can’t let it go to waste.”

They discuss ideas, Trixie shoots most of Katya’s down, because _“No Katya, you aren’t sucking me off on stage, we aren’t Shalaska.”_ They’re touring together in a month, something Trixie hasn’t done since before Drag Race. But he loves Katya, considers him his best friend (sorry Kim) and he’s so excited to share the stage with someone who is so immensely talented. This time it’s not Australia, the memory of a shared single bed and a small toilet in the corner is something they’d both rather forget.

They get back to Trixie’s apartment later in the evening, where the LA heat isn’t as bad, and the horizon is beginning to light up like fireflies.

“I’m thinking of moving here,” Katya shouts from the living room as Trixie makes them drinks, non-alcoholic because Katya’s sober and Trixie isn’t. He’s the opposite of sober, but call it solidarity or some bullshit like that. Whatever it is, it’s got pomegranate in it.

“Really? I thought you hated LA,” Trixie replies, setting the drinks onto the table and sitting on the couch, curling his feet underneath his thighs.

“I don’t think I ever used such strong language,” Katya says, taking a sip from the glass.

“You said Satan himself probably rents a condo on Melrose,” Trixie points out, raising an eyebrow. Katya presses his lips together and Trixie can practically see the cogs in his head turning.

“Anyway. I spend a lot of time here you know, with WOW, and Dragcon, and all of the other pieces of fabric that make up the tapestry of my career. It makes sense, if I can make it here, I can make it anywhere,” Katya replies, kicking out his leg like he’s about to start can-canning right there on the couch.

“That’s New York, you dumb bitch. Even if you make it here, you can still end up nowhere,” Trixie says, gesturing between them. Katya laughs, that stupid asthmatic laugh that Trixie can’t help but smile at because it’s just so… _Katya._ They talk shit for hours, dumb shit that Trixie doesn’t talk about with anyone else. The thing with Katya is he’s fucking weird, but he’s smart and insightful, when you can figure what he’s talking about. Its midnight before they go to bed, Katya’s flight is first thing in the morning, and while Trixie loves having Katya stay, he hates having his leave.

“Don’t steal the covers, you whore,” Trixie grumbles, pulling them closer towards him. Katya doesn’t answer, instead he presses himself against Trixie’s back. He can feel Katya’s heart beat against his shoulder, their legs are curled around each other, bare feet touching socks.

“Wanna make out?” Katya asks into the darkness.

A beat pasts. “What?” Trixie replies, not the slightest bit perplexed. He’s used to it by now, Katya’s not one for subtlety, especially when he’s horny.

“I’m so horny, do you want to?” Katya asks again.

“Nah, there’s lotion in the bathroom though, go jerk off,” Trixie says, smiling as he feels Katya deflate against him.

“Will you squirt the lotion onto me?”

“I’ll cover your entire body in it, so you can pretend that you’ve been bukkake’d,” Trixie replies half into the pillow, his eyes already shut.

“Really?” Katya asks, lifting his head up.

“No. Go to sleep.”

Katya wraps an arm around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s domestic, and probably blurring some kind of boundary, but they don’t have a boundary, they never have. Maybe that’s why they were both single, a thought Trixie ignores.

“Good night, Elizabeth,” Katya mutters into his ear in a half-hearted Mr Walton voice.

“Good night, John boy,” Trixie replies. Katya’s body is warm against his, and it isn’t long before he succumbs to sleep.

Trixie watches as Katya walks through the boarding gate and he feels almost empty as she makes his way back to his apartment, alone. What was that saying – surrounded by people but still feeling alone? He had acquaintances, the people who weren’t known enough to be friends, but not mysterious enough to be strangers. He had his friends, the ones she contacted for a good time and nothing more. Then he had his ride or dies, Kim, Trannika and Katya. And by a streak of shitty luck, none of them lived in the same state as him. He felt lonely, the type of loneliness that his Facebook stalking his ex boyfriends to see if they were still available. They weren’t.

At least he has Trixya, his faux relationship that provides him with some sense of comfort. They tweet each other, just little things that could be misconstrued. He answers honestly when someone on Reddit asks who he would marry. Because he would marry Katya, in a heartbeat. They would spend their days antiquing, finding strange tchotchkes for their apartment. Their nights would be spent either making passionate love, or crocheting. They would experiment with including both, an idea obviously thought of by Katya, and it would end with a trip to A&E. But it wasn’t real, he didn’t have anyone, and he was alone.

The weeknights were the worst. The days could be filled easily; shopping, eating, hiking. Weekends could be spent surrounded by people that were easy distractions. But the only company on a Wednesday night was the delivery driver that handed his food and took his money, not quite a budding romance. Like the screen cap of Ru on Project Runway, the loneliness continues to follow her around, no matter what he does. It disappears for a while, when he performs, he feels nothing but elation, but much like one night stands, the high doesn’t last long and the comedown feels even worse.

He’s laying on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her as he flicks through the TV channels, settling on the last 45 minutes of Zoolander. There’s Chinese take-out containers on the table, obscuring some of his view, but he can’t be bothered moving them, instead, choosing to watch the movie with only half of Ben Stiller’s face. His phone buzzes loudly on the side table behind him, startling him.

**Katya**

_Do you think Hulk Hogan would be a generous lover?_

**Trixie**

_I think he would bodyslam you as he orgasms_

**Katya**

_Maybe I like that. What are you doing?_

**Trixie**

_Other than fighting off the depression that threatens to consume me?_

**Katya**

_Isn’t depression just a fancy word for bummed out anyway? Cheer up, Tracy._

**Trixie**

_Katya, you ignorant slut._

**Katya**

_You: an ignorant slut me: an uneducated hussy_

**Trixie**

_Well done grampa, you figured out memes_

**Katya**

_Made you laugh though didn’t it? Talk to Uncle Katya, come sit on my lap and tell me what’s wrong_

**Trixie**

_My other uncle said the same thing. I don’t know, I miss you. No homo though._

**Katya**

_Not even 2% homo?_

**Katya**

_Oh wait, never mind, you’re veggie. I guess it would be coconut or almond homo?_

**Trixie**

_Sure, full almond homo._

**Katya**

_I miss you too fyi. Sorry I haven’t been in touch, things have been pretty hectic, as the children say_

**Trixie**

_It’s cool, I’ll see you in a week anyway._

**Katya**

_One week till the Trixya honeymoon_

**Trixie**

_Is that our ship name? It’s cute. Kinda sounds like a pill for constipation though_

**Katya**

_“Can’t shit? Take Trixya, we’ll give you diarrhoea”_

**Trixie**

_Beautiful poetry. I’m gonna go shower and head to bed, To Catch a Predator’s on in like 20 minutes_

**Katya**

_Think of me when you’re in the shower, goodnight_

**Trixie**

_I already do, it stops me from ejaculating so quickly. Goodnight x_

A week flies by, and before Trixie even realises, he’s sitting on a plane next to Katya on their way to the UK. Trixie loves the UK, the strange dialect (particularly from the Glaswegians), the accents, the food. He’d never had a munchie box until he went to the UK, and it’s something he thanks God for, or he would, if he was religious. Their first stop is London, a city with this indescribable buzz about it. It’s not quite a city that never sleeps, but rather a city that has a power nap at around 3am and is then ready to go again. They’re sharing a hotel room, it’s cheaper, and it’s a fun way to find out what receptionists are homophobic.

The gig goes smoothly, it’s like second nature to Trixie now, performing to a club of 500 people. It’s a long way from being told “you’re too out there” back in Milwaukee. He jokes about it, but being eliminated from Drag Race was the best thing to happen to him. Sure, winning 100 grand would have been nice, but meeting fans, having them share this journey with her, that was priceless. They get back to the hotel room, too tired to talk in anything other than monosyllables. Trixie’s body aches with fatigue, and he barely remembers to untuck before climbing into bed, his body sinking into the soft mattress with gratitude.

Morning comes, and the cycle begins again. A rushed breakfast, taxi to the train station, on the train, new city. Katya’s lying on his stomach on the bed at the hotel, his legs kicking behind her as he reads fanfiction about them.

“Trixie, look. This one has me as a beautiful artist with a cute dog. Do you think I could be a beautiful artist?” Katya asks, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Only if you’re the most beautiful,” Trixie replies, pulling out his phone charger from his bag and plugging it into the wall.

“Oh, oh, _oh!_ We fuck in this one!” Katya half-yells in excitement, pulling himself up to sit cross-legged.

“Are you good?” Trixie asks, settling on the bed next to him as he scrolls through Twitter.

“Am I good? I only make you cum three times,” Katya replies, like it’s completely obvious.

“Three times? That sounds fake,” Trixie says, glancing up from his phone.

“Rude. I’m like the Harry Potter of sex in this fanfiction. Katya Potter and the Magic of her Penis,” Katya says smugly.

“That was lame, please don’t attempt to make Harry Potter puns ever again.”

“For someone that’s came three times, you aren’t very post-coital. You’re more… six months pre-coitus.”

“That’s because I am,” Trixie replies, rolling his eyes.

Katya gapes at him, looking down at his crotch, before looking back to his face “Six months? Is everything okay down there?”

“Not six months, more like…two…and a half. And _yes,_ everything’s working fine, I just haven’t found the right guy, I guess.”

“Every guy is the right guy from behind,” Katya states. “Your pussy needs feeding, go feed it.”

Trixie ponders Katya’s words as he watches the other queen walk to the bathroom. Had it really been that long? Had he gone without any form of intimacy for almost three months? It wasn’t like he was unattractive, a little repressed Mormon neighbour, sure, but he wasn’t ugly. He hadn’t been out in forever, instead, spending his nights with a cup of cocoa and some shitty Lifetime movie. Maybe he needed to get back out there, jump back on the saddle.

“We should kiss at this one,” Katya says, mid-contour, her brush dangling from her fingers like a cigarette.

“Peck or full-make out?” Trixie asks, pressing powder onto her face.

“Somewhere in the middle, not 12 year old first kiss, but not horny college kids,” Katya answers, pondering for a second before nodding.

“Okay. I hate getting your red lipstick all over me though, it’s the worst thing about kissing you. That and your halitosis,” Trixie says, smiling as Katya laughs, dropping her brush onto the hotel room carpet.

“You’ll need to get used to it when I suck your dick, it’ll be like you dipped it into a pot of strawberry jam.”

“That’s a whole new meaning to Grandma’s secret recipe,” Trixie replies, laughing as Katya scrunches her face up in mild disgust.

They get ready in relative silence, and by silence, Trixie means with Katya’s Russian songs playing loudly. Two songs each and they’re both standing on the stage, soaking in the part excitement, part alcohol fuelled buzz of the crowd. Trixie’s hardly listening to Katya as she talks to the crowd, probably some nonsense about her pussy. Instead she’s watching her as she talks, the make-up on her jaw’s been wiped off, and when she pulls Trixie close to her, she smells of cigarettes and sweat.

“- I am honoured to share the stage with this beautiful cunt. May I have this kiss?” Katya asks, turning to face Trixie, her arm still wrapped around her waist. They lean in at the same time, dry lips brushing against dry lips. Trixie moves her hand to rest on Katya’s arm as their lips move together, the roar of the crowd deafening. It’s Trixie that deepens the kiss, opens her mouth more, allowing Katya to kiss her better. Her tongue moves with Katya’s and they kiss sloppily, making some gaudy show of it as they exaggerate their movements. Although she joked about it, kissing Katya isn’t half bad. She tastes vaguely of cigarettes, but it’s not entirely unpleasant to Trixie.

They pull away, Katya’s lipstick is smeared around her face like some fucked up Ronald McDonald, and they smile at each other before bursting into giggles. They leave off stage hand in hand, before making their way to the meet and greet. The fans all blur into one, and Trixie’s thankful for the heavy make-up that hides her exhaustion. The next fan that comes in is cute, tall and dark, just her type and she’s suddenly very awake. Maybe he can be the saddle.

“Hi, what’s your name, how are you?” she asks as he smiles at Katya before looking right at her.

“Martin. And all the better now that I’ve met you,” he replies, smoothly.

“That was lame,” she says, rolling her eyes but smiling to show she means no malice.

“It was, can I make it up to you once you’re done here?” he asks, pulling her close as they pose for the photo. His hand is on her padded hip, and she glances at Katya who nods in encouragement.

“Are you always this forward?” she asks.

He chuckles, “No, I’ve had about seven drinks,” he replies, grinning as she laughs.

“I’ll find you later,” she says as he’s ushered out by the promoter who welcomes the next fan in. 250 fans later, Katya’s left and Trixie finds himself pressed up against a bathroom stall that stinks slightly of piss, Martin’s lips on his neck. His hands roam his now unpadded body, his fingers pressing against the cloth of his t-shirt. He runs her hands through blonde hair, locks gaze with green eyes. Then he blinks and the strands are brown, the eyes are blue and oh, _fuck_. Of course it would happen, he’s a sucker for a cliché.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the bulge in his pants now flaccid,  Martin’s touch no longer leaving him hot, but ice cold.

“Mmm, yeah I know, fuck,” he mutters against his skin.

He tenses before deflating, the situation now awkward rather than arousing.

“Hey, hey, stop,” he says, pushing his chin away from him. “I’m sorry, I gotta go.”

He frowns, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, I’m just super tired, sorry,” he answers, sliding out from underneath him. “Feel free to bitch about it on Twitter.”

He makes her way back to the hotel and stands in the hallway for 10 minutes. Trixie knows Katya’s in there, in their shared room with the shared bed. And how could he have been so stupid? Of course it was Katya, like it could have been anyone else. What’s strange is that he isn’t shocked or confused, it’s like it’s always been there, just lurking in the distance, waiting to be discovered. This was his Eureka moment, his Einsteinian discovery. He isn’t sure what to do with this new found information, share it? Keep it to himself? Trixie sighs before knocking on the door.

Katya opens the door in nothing but plaid pyjama pants and looks out the hallway in confusion. “No trade?” he asks as Trixie walks in.

“Small dick,” Trixie lies, kicking off his shoes and undoing his jeans.

“Spiceworld’s on TV, want to watch?” Katya asks, settling back onto the rumpled covers of the bed. Trixie nods, pulling his jeans off and throwing them on top of his suitcase before fluffing up the pillows and lying back next to Katya.

“Would you still love me if I said Victoria was my favourite?” Katya asks as the movie goes to commercial.

“I’d love you even if said Geri was your favourite,” Trixie replies, resting his head on Katya’s shoulder.

“Geri wasn’t so bad,” Katya replies, leaning his head on top of Trixie’s.

“She was a despicable traitor,” Trixie mutters, his eyes beginning to feel heavy.

“She was the Beyonce of the group, she needed to fly solo.”

Trixie scoffs, “She wasn’t even LaTavia. Everyone knows Mel C was the true Beyonce, Baby was Kelly and Mel B was Michelle.”

“What about Victoria?”

“She was Matthew Knowles,” Trixie replies, his head bouncing slightly as Katya laughed, his shoulders shaking.

“This was always my favourite Spice Girls song,” Katya says, as 2 Become 1 begins to play.

“Mine was always Too Much, this is a classic though,” Trixie replies, lifting his head from Katya’s shoulder. Katya’s too engrossed in the movie, his mouth moving with every lyric of the song. He’s handsome, but the opposite of Trixie’s type with sand coloured hair and skin that could probably do with seeing the sun a little more. But then there’s the little things, like the way his skin curves over taut biceps, eyes that are piercing, that stupid wheezing laugh.  And then there’s the crux of it; the way Trixie completely adores Katya. Adores every part of him, good and bad.  Adores his weird Russian music, adores the way he can never shut the fuck up, adores the way he makes extremely bad life decisions. And maybe this is another one, but maybe it’ll work in their favour.

_Set your spirit free, it’s the only way to be_

“I thought about you, earlier, with the trade,” Trixie says, his heart beating frantically in his chest. “That’s why I left.”

Katya turns his head, his face surprised for a moment before changing to one void of expression. “Oh,” he replies. It’s unusual, for Katya to be so quiet, to not have a million things to say, and Trixie’s anxious, he can feel it settling on top of his chest as she watches Katya glance down.

“I um, I just thought you should know. I feel something for you,” Trixie stammers out. The tension between them is thick, it’s new, and he doesn’t like it. He wants to take it back, rewind on this movie and pretend he never said it. He wants them to watch Spiceworld with no interruptions, then go to bed, and that’s it, like it never happened.

“Are you saying you love me?” Katya asks.

“I’m… not sure. I feel _something,_ it’s something that I’ve only recently discovered,” Trixie replies, his finger grazing over the covers of the bed.

Katya nods, “Much like Mulder and Scully, I believe we have been dancing around our relationship for far too long. I would consider myself the Mulder in this situation, I was very aware early on that I had feelings for you. Like Scully, you were oblivious –“

“Katya. You have feelings for me?” Trixie asks.

“I thought that was obvious. Was it not? My bad,” Katya replies, shrugging.

“This is not the beautiful declaration of love they show you in the movies.”

“I know. I don’t think we can beat Shrek though,” Katya says.

“From X Files to Shrek, you really are something,” Trixie replies, taking Katya’s hand in his own. They both look down as their hands move, the pads of their fingers pressing together before Trixie curls her fingers in between Katya’s, linking them. “This feels nice.”

“You know what else would feel nice? Me sucking your dick,” Katya mutters, waggling his eyebrows, or what’s left of them.

“It’s hard to take you seriously when all you’re waggling is half an eyebrow,” Trixie replies.

“It’s not the only thing that’s hard, Brenda,” Katya says, clicking his tongue and using his free hand to gesture at the crotch of his pyjama bottoms. Trixie rolls his eyes, laughing slightly. They move closer together, their hands still linked. Trixie’s nervous, and by the way he licks his lips, he bets Katya is too. His head moves closer to Katya’s, their eyes close at the same time as they move in. Their noses clash, something that’s instantly forgotten as their lips brush.

They barely kiss at first, both of them getting used to this new dimension of their relationship. It feels strange, kissing without an audience, though the intimacy is welcomed as Katya moved his free hand to Trixie’s back, pressing him closer. Their lips move together with an almost fatigue, slowly memorising every feel of each other. Trixie opens his mouth, welcoming Katya’s tongue into his mouth as his hand moves to Katya’s neck. He can feel Katya’s pulse beneath the pads of his fingers, their tongues moving languidly. The end credits of the movie plays as they pull apart, and Katya’s cheeks are slightly flushed, his lips shiny and plush.

It’s Katya that takes control, moving to the hem of Trixie’s t-shirt and pulling it over his head. His fingers move over newly discovered skin, splaying themselves over Trixie’s ribs as he gazes at Trixie with intensity. Trixie moves to his knees, and pulls at Katya’s plaid pyjama bottoms, discarding them onto the floor. He drinks Katya in, from the hair on his legs, to the scar on his abdomen. Moving closer, he straddles Katya, who sits up, resting his hands at the bottom of Trixie’s back. Fingers stroke at Katya’s jaw, at the stubble that’s beginning to grow. His hands move to broad shoulders, and Katya nips at his neck, a movement that makes his squirm. He can feel Katya hard beneath her, and he shuffles a little, rolling his hips so their crotches rub together.

The gasp from Katya’s lips alights something in him, and he rolls his hips again, harder, gasping himself at the friction. Katya thrusts up as he rolls down, and they moan softly together, their eyes never leaving each other. Trixie can feel his cock twitch in him underwear and he knows that he needs more than this. Katya has the same idea, and when Trixie climbs off him, Katya makes quick at freeing his cock. Trixie’s at his suitcase, rifling through it for lube and condoms. He finds them and turns to the sight of Katya on the bed, cock in hand.

He bites his lip, and clambers out of his own underwear, his cock springs free, the cold air hitting the sensitive head. He walks over to the bed, placing the lube and condoms on the nightstand as he lies back on the bed. He watches Katya, watches him move his hand over his own cock, his gaze never weakening in its intensity. Trixie moves Katya’s hand, replacing it with his own, the feel of it hard and warm in his hand. He strokes the head with a feather light touch, smiling as Katya’s body twitches. There’s a bead of precum dripping from the head of his own cock, and he watches as Katya changes positions, and licks the bead up with his tongue. Trixie’s eyes roll into the back of his head as Katya sucks at the head of his cock before engulfing it in his mouth, his cheeks even more hollow than usual.

His tongue swirls at the tip, his hand moving to the shaft and gripping it tightly as he moves it up and down Trixie’s cock. Trixie thrusts his hips into the wet heat and looks down as his hands move to the back of Katya’s head. He’s embarrassingly close already, and the joke of imagining Katya to stave off ejaculation no longer applies.

“Katya, stop,” Trixie says, regretting her words instantly as Katya’s mouth moves off him.

“Something wrong?” Katya asks in confusion.

“No, just fuck me already,” Trixie answers.

“Affirmative,” Katya says, grabbing a condom and rolling it to the base of his cock. Trixie watches from his knees as Katya grabs the lube, squeezing some onto his fingers. He squeezes the bottle too much, the clear liquid falling from his fingers onto the duvet. “Oops.”

He’s giddy with anticipation as he looks back at Katya, who teases his hole with a finger. He moans softly at the light touch on the sensitive flesh and arches his back as Katya enters a finger into him, and then another. His fingers move slowly inside him, letting his muscles relax around them, before curling and beginning to pump. Trixie moans into his arm as he pushes himself back onto Katya’s fingers with desperate need. He whines as Katya removes his fingers and squirts lube onto his hole, the coldness of the liquid making him jump a little. He can feel the head of Katya’s cock press against him, and he gasps as Katya pushes himself all the way in before stopping.

He feels full, and it’s been too long since he’s felt something other than plastic inside him. Katya’s cock twitches inside him, stretching his hole and he arches his back, allowing more of Katya inside him. Katya begins to move slowly, too slow for Trixie’s liking, and his fingers rest on Trixie’s hips. He rolls her hips into Trixie as he pulls him back onto his cock, and Trixie moans as he feels Katya hit deep inside him. Trixie moves to his own cock, palming it slow and hard, mimicking Katya’s motions. Katya pulls almost all the way out, only the head of his cock still inside Trixie, and angles his thrust up as he moves back in, hitting Trixie’s prostate.

Trixie shudders at the feeling, flashes of white light dancing behind his eyes as Katya continues to thrust, increasing the speed. He thrusts into her own hand as Katya thrusts into him, and he can feel Katya’s hips bounce off the back of his ass. There’s sweat forming on his brow, and he wipes it off onto the duvet. He can hear Katya gasp and moan behind him, and he glances back, watching as Katya lolls his head back, his eyes closed, his face in ecstasy. Katya cums with a quiet moan, so quiet Trixie can barely hear it, can only feel Katya’s fingers press roughly onto his hips as he has one final thrust. Trixie cums with his face on the duvet, his previously wiped off sweat now back on his cheek as cum coats his hand, spilling from his fingers onto the bed.

There’s the sound of heavy breathing behind him, and he feels Katya pull out of him. He exhales, tiredness hitting him like a truck. His thighs are sticky from a mixture of cum and sweat, and he feels positively filthy. He watches as Katya discards the condom in the trash can and rolls over onto his back. Katya lies next to him, his sweat covered chest moving up and down with every breath.

“Happy honeymoon,” Katya says, pressing a quick kiss to Trixie’s lips, the taste of salt on Trixie’s tongue.

They would never stop with the game, would never stop teasing the fans with the possibility of their fanfictions becoming real life. Maybe one day they would, but for now, it was far too amusing. And although their relationship was fun, it was never a game. A game would imply there to be a loser, but they were both winners. 


End file.
